Temptation and Surrender by Stephanie Laurens Read Free Book Online Page A

uttered a small humph and deigned to sit, subsiding into the rickety chair behind the desk. Her gaze grew abstracted.
    He watched her pretend to ignore him, but she knew very well he was there.
    “Supplies,” she eventually said. She looked up at him. “Is there somewhere the inn has an account?”
    “There’s a merchant in Seaton the estate uses for all supplies. You should deal with him on the Grange account.”
    She nodded, then opened the desk drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pencil. She set the paper on the desk, held the pencil poised. “I intend to concentrate on building up the inn’s culinary offerings first. Once people have reason to think of eating here, we’re more likely to see them become regular customers.” She made several notes, then paused, making a show of reading over what she’d written. “I believe,” she said without looking up, “that we can make the inn the communal center for the village, not just for those who want a pint at the end of the day, but all through the day—a place where the women can come to chat over a pot of tea, and couples can stop in for a meal. All of which will greatly improve the inn’s income, and thus its profits. As for the accommodation, I’ll see to improving the rooms and amenities once we have something better—something more than just beer and ale—to offer paying guests.”
    She’d been steadily scribbling, making a list as she spoke. Now she looked up at him, faint but definite challenge in her eyes. “Does that meet with your approval, Mr. Tallent?”
    Jonas , he wanted to say. He looked into her bright eyes, knew her challenge had a broader scope than just the inn.
    But he hadn’t missed her use of the royal “we.” Whether she’d intended it or not, the word had reminded him that he needed her there, as the innkeeper of the Red Bells—that if he wanted her to remain and take the inn in hand, something he was increasingly confident she could in fact do, then he couldn’t afford to rattle her to the extent she decided to leave.
    She was defensive rather than skittish, putting up barriers, refusing to acknowledge the attraction between them.
    He could break through her barriers easily enough; all he had to do was take one step further into the room, shut the door, and…but now was not the time to risk such a move. Quite aside from running the inn, he didn’t yet know what had brought her there, brought her to this—to being his innkeeper. Until he did…
    Straightening from the doorjamb, he inclined his head. “Indeed, Miss Beauregard. Your plan sounds…eminently practical.” Lips curving, he swept her a bow. “I’ll leave you to it. Good night, Miss Beauregard.”
    She inclined her head regally. “Good night, Mr. Tallent.”
    Without glancing back, he turned and left the office.
     
    I t was well after midnight by the time Em climbed the stairs and turned into her rooms. In the kitchen she’d found a fresh candle—a long one to see her through the night. She wasn’t precisely afraid of the dark, but if she had a choice, she kept it at bay.
    Darkness reminded her of the night her mother died. Why, exactly, she didn’t know, but if she stayed in the dark for any length of time, it felt like a weight, an increasing weight, was pressing down on her chest, making it harder and harder to breathe—until she panicked and got back into the light.
    Entering her parlor, she saw bright moonlight streaming across the carpet. She’d left the curtains open; she almost didn’t need an extra light. Leaving the candle on the dresser, she went to the window. She stood before it, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness outside.
    Silvery light spilled over the landscape, gilding trees and bushes, washing over the common; in contrast the still surface of the duck pond looked like a piece of polished obsidian, black and reflective. Shadows shifted in the faint breeze, ruffling the moonlight. Atop the ridge the church stood in solid